


Motions

by akaidemic



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cities, Loneliness, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaidemic/pseuds/akaidemic
Summary: A stream-of-consciousness work about loneliness and large cities.
Kudos: 3





	Motions

Does it sometimes feel like your heart is an engine that runs on the slightest sliver of gas?

The streets dark, with neon-lights flashing and the nearest gas-station away, visible as a red dot in the distance.

You could walk, and it’s cold outside. You smell the memories of food from the dinner rush, and you forget who you were for a second.

So, you walk, you set your car aside and you wonder if it’s even allowed here because what do you even known about this city. You’ve never been here before. You know the outlines, you know the way the city moves but in essence, all cities move on the same wavelength. Sure, the speeds differ, but the motions are the same. We move up into the rush and down into the quiet. Every city screams at 6PM and opens her prettiest eyes at 6AM. Every city is the same.

Do you even know what the field behind the gate is? Can you read the sign? Have you ever stopped to translate it for yourself? If you did you might learn nothing, but you might have learned a thing.

There are still so many cars on the road. Even in the dark they scream their songs of loud noises and bright lights. You know them as you know the roads, by concept and essence, but not as individuals. You know to avoid them, as you skip across the wide roads to follow your shortcuts. Large leaps, with a street as wide as a river and as dangerous as the plains which you’ve never seen. One leap, two leap, three leaps. Hold onto your phone.

Are you going to carry it in your hands? Carry the gas back to your car hoping it’ll start on a handful and take you home? Is there a purpose in continuing to walk if you don’t know what you’ll bring back?

The buildings look tall and expensive and you wonder behind which window someone is looking back at you. You wonder how many people are there. Become aware of the multitude of lives intersecting with you and suddenly it’s not the buildings making you feel small, but the concept of others. You wish for a connection. It does not come.

There is nobody here on this intersection. Not even the dangers you were raised to avoid. Sometimes the absence of these increases the loneliness felt in these moments. They were a part of the world as it was painted for you by those who raised you. Nobody ever said that there would be times where it would be just you for as far as you can see. Safe as anything, but utterly alone.

Which home do you go to? The one you shared or the one you held alone? You wonder if both still exist. You wonder if your car has been towed. You did park it on the sidewalk, you think.

It’s fine. The gas station has other things besides gas, and you doubt that a handful of gas would’ve satisfied the cravings of your vehicle. So, you hold onto your bag and you look through aisles illuminated by the cold lights above. The hum of the fridge is calming, and it tells you speaking is silver, and its song is golden. The clerk agrees, he does not say anything. He knows 3AM is not a time for speaking.

You pay for one soda and a cheese-stick. It costs you two bills. You have it on you. You donate the change to the tip jar. Coins are a menace.

You can feel the curve of the earth under your feet and you wonder which side you’re on. The distance between homes seems almost tangible. It frightens you, and you wish the buildings would return to make you feel small in a way you understand.

You’re not enough for this city. You’re swimming beside the stream and observing the same things, but you can feel that its essence is behind glass. You remember you do know her, and you love her, but she won’t love you back. No city ever has. No place will.

You remember the faces of these times and you feel a feint aching in your chest as your heart sputters. His smile was golden and his necklace remarkable and you remember how you loved him as far as you can remember. You didn’t know what love was, nor do you think you know her now, but all you can remember is missing him. Was he worth that? You doubt it.

In the window of the closed coffeeshop, your face has two reflections. You recognise them both and hate them equally, but they meet you with the same indifference you grant them. You don’t truly dislike them, but they are both aware of what has been and must be done. There is a ringing in your ears as a truck passes on this lonely road. Sudden, though with a long approach you should’ve seen coming. Your face is just one face in the window beside the sticker of a latte. You decide to forgive it.

If you just sat down, you would be safe. There is nothing but you, and the echo of the working day. You enjoy sitting in the echo, surrounded by the closed doors. For a moment it feels like the world belongs to you, as it never has. Your soda clicks loudly in the silence. The taste is sweet and fresh and reminds you of the colour yellow. It makes you happy.

The cold metal turns your hands foreign. You remember this feeling and so you walk. Sudden memories of small, purple bars and softly lit restaurants with food you cannot begin to recall and if you did, pronounce. There’s an aching in your chest as you tell the wind you miss your mother, and she carries it to nowhere.

You’re tired.

There is no place for you to belong. No place to keep your gas. There’s no choice but to run out and see how long it’ll take you.

See if it’ll take you home.

Wherever that is.


End file.
